Oh, I Believe in Yesterday
by theBrutalityofReality
Summary: After the Revolutionary War, Arthur begins to ponder and crave the happier "yesterdays" he once had with Alfred. US/UK, songfic to "Yesterday" by The Beatles, Revolutionary War setting


**Author's Note: **I got to see Rain again, a fantastic Beatles tribute show currently on Broadway, and this idea came to me when they were performing the song "Yesterday". It immediately clicked in my head as USUK. I just hope this idea hasn't been done for them before, I don't believe it has. If it has, I did not mean to copy anyone, and it's just a coincidence.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_Yesterday,_  
_All my troubles seemed so far away, _  
_Now it looks as though they're here to stay, _  
_Oh, I believe in yesterday._

England took a long drink from his glass. Booze was all that helped...

The rain was still coming down fairly hard outside. It seemed as though it would never stop. As if the clouds would keep crying for eternity. As if the sun would just remained blocked in the dark sky, never touching the Earth with its gentle warmth. As if happiness was dead. Yesterday the clouds had been nice and puffy in a clear blue sky. Yesterday it had been a warm sunny day. And yesterday, happiness had been alive and well. England had been somewhat happy as well. But now his happiness was gone. Along with his dear Alfred. Yesterday, Arthur strongly believed he was going to win the battle. It was an important battle. One that would possibly determine the outcome of the war. And he believed that he had victory in his grasp. He believed that the war would be brought to an end in his favor. And most of all, he believed that Alfred would throw in the towel, and the two of them could be happy again. Like how they had been happy for all of those years. Yesterday had been practically perfect. But now...yesterday seemed so far away. It was out of his grasp and he could not do a single thing about it. The only thing that he could do was cry. At least a hard drink helped.

He reached for the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself another glass. He had been drinking heavily for about an hour. Right after he got home, he made his way for the nearest bottle of liquor he could find. And he just sat at his kitchen table in the darkness, not bothering to light any sort of candle, drinking. He wasn't getting drunk though. Even though he was drinking heavily, the alcohol didn't seem to be affecting him like it usually did. Perhaps it was because he was far too emotionally unstable at the moment. Tears had been coming from his green eyes almost the entire time he was at the table. He was also still damp from the battle, not bothering to take off his sopping uniform. Everything just felt so pointless right now. He was starting to detest the present and the future. Both were so gloom and hopeless. All he desired right now was the past, the beautiful yesterday that was so far out of the grasp. It was something that he could never have. He really had lost this beautiful past at the start of the war, but he was just desperately trying to cling onto those shards of the past. But he learned something with this experience. No matter how much he wanted it, he could not have the past. He had been fighting a useless battle. The outcome had been predicted before it even started. Even though Arthur was well aware of this fact, he still wanted the past more than anything. He needed that happy yesterday. He needed to be rescued from this horrid present. He could not handle it...

_Suddenly, _  
_I'm not half the man I used to be, _  
_There's a shadow hanging over me, _  
_Oh, yesterday came suddenly. _

"You used to be so big..."

Those words had pained Arthur more than any wound he received during the entire war. That was the final destruction of the content past he used to have with Alfred. It was the end of things. A little boy used to admire and look up to him. Not just in the physical sense, but in a figurative way also. He recalled a particular memory when Alfred was a young boy. He and Alfred had been holding hands, heading home for the night. And out of nowhere, Alfred just stopped walking. He recalled stopping and looking down at the young boy, asking what was wrong. Then Alfred looked at him with those big blue eyes and said: "When I grow up, I wanna be a big and strong nation just like you, England!". Those words had meant the entire world to England. No one had ever said anything that flattered him more than Alfred did on that day. Someone wanted to be like him. Someone looked up to him. Someone loved him...was there anything more he really needed? Arthur remembered being completely flustered after this one comment. He had been at a complete loss of words. How was he to respond to such a beautiful compliment? He didn't have the slightest idea. Eventually, Arthur just smiled and thanked his young colony, returning back to the original conversation they were having prior. Now, he wished that had said something more than that. Something more meaningful. If only he could go back into the past. He'd love to return to that day and change his answer. And more importantly, try and change Alfred's opinion about seeking independence and war. Maybe if he had some way of getting back to the past, he could convince him that they did not need war. They just needed each other. At least he still had the fond memory of Alfred saying those kind words.

But now...the words Alfred said today were just paining him so much. It was almost like they were conquering and replacing the kind words that Alfred had said to him. The situation was almost a complete reverse of the other one. Today was a dark and rainy day, while the other day had been bright and sunny. Their battle had just concluded, and Arthur collapsed to his knees, weeping. And Alfred looked down on him, in both the literal and figurative sense. Alfred never used to do that. He used to look up to him no matter what. Even after Alfred had surpassed him in height, at least Alfred still looked up to him in the figurative sense. But both of those were long gone now. And the American said how he used to be big, meaning that he no longer was. And the thought alone just gave him another reason to weep. Perhaps that was another reason why he broke down and cried. Alfred didn't look up to him anymore...he looked down on him.

_Why she _  
_Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say. _  
_I said, _  
_Something wrong, now I long for yesterday. _

"...I'll become independent from you from now on!"  
"I won't allow it!"

How could he let Alfred go? He just couldn't. Alfred was his baby. His precious little Alfred. He knew he couldn't leave Alfred out there in the harsh world. He thought that Alfred wouldn't survive. That the world would tear him to shreds. He was so young compared to all of the other nations. He was a teenager, so he more or less had that "I-can-do-everything-on-my-own" attitude. Teenagers didn't understand a thing. They thought that they could do all of this, but they really couldn't. Arthur assumed that this had been the case with Alfred. He thought that he could do everything on his own, but the reality was that he just couldn't. Arthur knew that Alfred wasn't ready to go out into the world on his own. Alfred was so young compared to all of the other nations. He was so inexperienced as well. He couldn't relate or truly understand the issues that the other nations were dealing with. They had all been dealing with them for years, and Alfred had never dealt with them at all. What if they all came to invade him? He might fall under a harsh regime of another nation! Arthur believed that he treated Alfred fairly. He believed that the taxes he was imposing on Alfred were fair and called for. His own people had to pay taxes, so why should Alfred be any excuse to it? He was considered to be a part of the United Kingdom, as a colony, so it only seemed fair. And he received protection in return, despite the fact that Alfred really did not need it. No matter how much he didn't want to admit it, Alfred was strong. The boy was possibly even stronger than him. He had proven that in the battles that they fought, though he did have some help from that bloody Frog. But Alfred had always been strong, even when he was a a baby. And it was that strength that Arthur had grown to detest. He didn't want Alfred to be strong, despite how horrid that sounded. Mainly because he wanted to be able to protect Alfred, and he wanted the other to be dependent. He wanted to care for Alfred.

There comes a time when the young birds have to leave the nest. The mother bird practically forces her children out of the nest and into the world, once they are able to take flight from the nest. She doesn't seem to hold any attachment to her babies, and just pushes them out so they can fly. But what if one of them couldn't fly? What then? The drop down is long and painful. What is the mother to do if one of her birds falls to the ground, and possibly dies?. What then? Arthur could not understand how mother birds could do something so heartless. Didn't the love their babies? Why didn't they worry? And the situation with the birds was very similar to where he currently stood with Alfred. Alfred was like a young bird, a blackbird. The blackbird had always been Arthur's favorite bird. It always looked so majestic with those pure black feathers, but it also appeared frail and delicate at the same time. It was only appropriate for him to view his dear Alfred as the blackbird. His little blackbird believed it was his moment to fly into the light of the dark black night, all on his own. But Arthur was not ready to let his blackbird fly. He feared that something back might happen to him. He didn't think that it was time for his blackbird to fly, so he was restraining it back. But his blackbird just kept on fighting him, causing Arthur's heart to just shatter. He feared his blackbird leaving him. He feared the loneliness that he might suffer. So he was clinging onto Alfred, trying to keep him here. But Alfred didn't want to stay, which triggered this damned war. A war that Arthur really did not wish to fight in the slightest bit.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not point a gun at Alfred and shoot him. He just couldn't do something as inhumane and heartless as that. Trying to shoot Alfred...the thought alone just scared him to death. He never wanted to inflict pain on Alfred, no, not at all. He would much rather inflict pain on himself than his dear American. He didn't even like when his men pointed their guns and fired at Alfred. Part of him just wanted to go in front of their guns and take the shots instead. It would hurt a lot less than seeing Alfred suffering because of pain. But despite the fact that he did not want to fight this war...he still had to do something. And that is where his words come in. While he could not attack him with a gun, he could attack him with his words. And sometimes, words were the most deadly weapon that one could use. Words left scars that would often last longer than a physical wound. A physical wound would at least heal, but the pain that came from words could mentally scar one for eternity. Which happened with some of the words Alfred said to Arthur, they left scars on him. Scars that he just wished would heal, but probably never would. Arthur really didn't want to say these harsh things to him, but he knew that they might be his only way to win back Alfred. Unfortunately, he had been extremely wrong. Initially, when Alfred came to him and proposed the idea of independence, Arthur immediately started to attack him with harsh words. And those harsh words didn't do anything but trigger the start of the war. And as the war raged on, the words grew harsher and harsher. Today he said some things to Alfred that he never imagined to ever utter. How he craved to back to yesterday, to stop himself from ever saying them. Unfortunately, this was just a far-fetched desire that he would never be able to obtain.

_Yesterday, _  
_Love was such an easy game to play, _  
_Now I need a place to hide away, _  
_Oh, I believe in yesterday. _

"Dammit! Why! Dammit..."

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He partially hated himself for it. But...he had fallen in love with Alfred. He had fallen in love with the boy that he raised. It sounded so wrong when it was put like that, but to Arthur it just sounded so right. Alfred had become his everything. He fought this war because he didn't want to let him go. He wanted to stay with him forever. He wanted to find happiness with Alfred...like they had in a yesterday long ago. Maybe they could have found happiness. Maybe he could have let him go peacefully, as opposed to going to war. And then maybe Alfred would have come back to him, realizing that perhaps he was in love as well. But...that was not how things went. All he had done was cause his love to hate him. His hatred took his love away, and he didn't think that Alfred would ever come back to him. He would probably hate Arthur for the rest of his life. Even if Alfred were to hate him for the rest of his life, Arthur would never stop loving him. He would love that boy until the end of time. And even if his love was not requited, he wouldn't mind. As long as he could send all of his loving to Alfred, he would keep on loving the boy. He didn't think that he would ever stop loving Alfred. Despite this, he still wanted Alfred's love that he had in those Yesterdays. He wanted that more than anything. Maybe somehow...those Yesterdays could become Tomorrows. Maybe one day Alfred would come back to him. He just had to believe in yesterday. Arthur leaned his head on the table, his eyes slowly starting to shut. Pretty soon he was fast asleep, dreaming of a happy yesterday.

_"Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm..."_


End file.
